


Drabble #8

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Drabbles [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 22:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12567664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite





	Drabble #8

Dean Winchester is gorgeous.

You watch him lean against the bar, chatting with the bartender. She’s just as stunning, leaning her elbows against the bar so her tank top slides down a little to highlight her cleavage. Her slender, bare, unmarked arms are graceful when she pours drinks.

You chug the rest of your beer.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, watching you with concern.

“Yup,” you say, popping the “p” as you set your bottle down. You tug on your sleeves, pulling them down to cover your palms.

He doesn’t push. Dean has new drinks in hand as he makes his way back through the crowd to your table.

“Hello, beautiful,” he purrs, kissing your forehead. “Wanna get out of here?”

You lift an eyebrow at him. “Sure you want to get out of here with me?”

You shoot a pointed glance over his shoulder to where the bartender is watching. Dean turns to look where you’re looking and she waves. He turns back to you, making a face.

“Why would I want anything but the most beautiful woman in the room?’ he asks, sliding his arm around your waist.

“Not the most beautiful,” you grumble.

Dean frowns. “Okay, come on. Let’s go back to the room.”

“Fine.”

You let him walk you across the street to the motel. He sits you on the end of the bed and kneels between your feet.

“Y/N,” he says softly, cradling your face in his hands. “Let me see.”

You want to cry and scream and throw up all at the same time, but instead you slowly take off your flannel and hold your arms out to him. You know if you say no, he’ll leave it be. He won’t be happy, but he’ll still cuddle you close and kiss your hair and tell you how much he loves you. It all works better this way, though, and he knows it. You know it.

Dean gently takes your forearms in his hands and presses kisses over the thin scars. The first touch pulls a choked sob from your throat and suddenly you’re crying.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” Dean murmurs, breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you. Let it all out.”

You pull your arms from his grasp and throw them around his neck. He lifts up, guiding you further onto the bed, and keeps you tight against his chest.

“My beautiful girl,” he sighs, turning his head to kiss a particularly deep scar near the curve of your elbow “I love you so much.”


End file.
